


Last Damn Night

by inquestionabletaste



Series: Ari Does Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Cunnilingus, F/M, Het, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquestionabletaste/pseuds/inquestionabletaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the battle at Ostagar, Ari Cousland receives a proposition she cannot decline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Damn Night

Grief was a funny thing. Ari had read all about it: tragic novels, where the noble knight sacrifices himself for his lady, or sometimes it was the lady who died — usually of some gruesome illness, described in too much detail. She had snooped through enough private letters as a child to have stumbled across the tentative admissions of seasoned men regarding lost families; the Couslands’ kennel master had even written a tearstained diary entry for one of his prized breeding dogs when it went. Not to be left out were the sterile scholarly musings: what is grief? Why does it permeate us so? Is it a force of nature that must be suffered, or a disease that can be cured? When Ari first came to the realization that her loved ones were mortal, and would one day depart this world, she imagined that grief would be torture. Grief was a mythic monster, always looming on the horizon, threatening.

And yet now, she felt nothing. She thought of her mother and father often, but their memory was a faded dream, blinked from the eyes as sleep falls away. She worried about Fergus now and again, as one worries about the kettle on the stove. She’d heard a rumor that he wasn’t going to be joining the King in battle, that he’d been lost to the Wilds. It didn’t touch her.

She was seated on a stump by the fire. On the opposite side of camp, she could see Alistair. He was a sweet, strange man; she couldn’t afford to appreciate him right now. Tomorrow might be the end of it all.

“That, it might, for a great many good men and women.”

Ari snapped from her reverie and looked up. The King himself was standing beside her, wearing a fond, if somber expression. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, and even so, she hadn’t expected anyone was paying attention.

“I have no illusions about this battle, despite the opinions of my naysayers.”

“Despite Loghain, Your Majesty?”

King Cailan sighed. “He is a good man, dear lady. He’s only stuck in the past, is all.”

Ari crossed her arms and rested her chin there.

He sat on the cold ground and propped himself against a post. He was beautiful, as she always imagined kings were supposed to be, but he didn’t hold himself right. He smiled too much.

“You never did give me your name,” he said. “Were you really being evasive, or just charming?”

“You know my name,” she told him. “It’s Cousland. And you have an odd idea of what charming is.”

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose that could be said.”

In spite of himself, he was still a king, and his kingliness compelled her. “My given is Ari, if you’re all that curious, Your Majesty.”

“Mine is Cailan,” he teased. “And how old are you, Ari Cousland?”

She frowned. “This will be my twentieth winter. Why?”

He shrugged. “That is young to be at war.”

“Is that why you’re sending me to the tower?”

Shaking his head, Cailan snorted. “I’m sending you with Alistair, aren’t I? He’s not so much younger than I. I have my reasons, don’t you worry.” He considered her; Ari couldn’t make out what he was trying to find. Then, carefully, quietly, he said, “You’re right. I mean, I don’t think tomorrow will be the end of you, or the end of me, but it could be.”

It was the first lapse she’d seen in his Glory-and-Country act. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

He glanced around. “Me, too. Perhaps you’d like to join me, and we can not think about it in my tent.”

Shock moved through Ari like an earthquake. He couldn’t be suggesting… But he _was_ , wasn’t he? One way or the other, she wanted to find out. “You do know how to pique a woman’s curiosity, Your Majesty.”

He stood and offered his hand. He slid it down her forearm and gripped her firmly, pulling her up.

Ari followed him through the camp. It felt like the longest walk of her life, and she’d walked the whole way from Highever to Ostagar. The back of her neck prickled with cold fear and anticipation; she couldn’t decide if people were really staring after them or if she was simply imagining it. In truth, some combination thereof was more likely.

Cailan pulled back the tent flap for her, and bade her enter before him. She did, and listened to him order his guard in hushed tones. She heard the jingling of coins. When Cailan joined her, she asked, “Does a king really need to bribe his own men?”

He grinned. “For some privacy? Hardly. Silence, on the other hand, can be harder to secure.”

“Ah. I see.”

He moved to a table at the center of the tent. It was strewn with maps and letters and all manner of tactical debris. He poured them both some wine; Ari had never been fond of the stuff, but she was willing to try again.

“I still can’t believe you asked me how old I am,” she said, reluctantly sniffing the fermented fruit juice in her cup.

“Would you have been happy with me if I hadn’t?”

“I didn’t realize you had ulterior motives.”

“That question wasn’t designed around bedding you.” He drank deeply. “You give me too much credit.”

“It wasn’t? Not at all?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted boyishly.

“No, people don’t give you _enough_ credit, Cailan.”

“Flatterer,” he joked. He seemed no worse for wear, despite having already drained his cup. Ari was going red just from inhaling the fumes.

“So.” Ari walked around, unsure of her bearings. Could she sit? Where should she? At the table, in one of those wooden chairs? Could she sit on his bed? Maker, this was the strangest predicament she’d ever found herself in. “If we aren’t thinking about the battle tomorrow, what are we thinking about?”

When she looked up, she could have swallowed her own tongue: Cailan was bare-chested. She had never wanted to have something so badly, not ever. He was handsome, he was royal, and he was married. She shouldn’t, but she needed to — in large part because she shouldn’t.

“I’ve been thinking of you, Ari.” He pulled a chair around and sat in it backwards, tipping towards her. He was broad of shoulder and chest, and a little narrow in the waist, despite his age. “I knew your parents,” he said. “Your brother, too. It’s a shame he won’t be with us tomorrow. He always speaks so highly of you.”

“Don’t speak of them here, please. Especially my brother.” It was reasonable enough to ask a man not to speak of her family before they went to bed together, so she didn’t think he’d inquire further.

“Of course; forgive me.”

She nodded. It wasn’t about him. She’d barely touched her wine, so she downed what was left in one go. It burned her from the inside out, but it was sweet. _I could get used to this_ , she thought.

“As I was saying, I’ve been thinking of you.” He recovered so smoothly, she could have applauded. “I’m always interested in the recruits Duncan brings, of course. But you...a noble, a woman. Well, you are exceptional, aren’t you.”

“Ha!” The drink escaped from her in more of a bark than a laugh. 

“I’ve been told you were more interested in climbing trees and riding horses than in etiquette and politics when you were a girl.”

Fergus had played the informant, no doubt. What he had said about her and why...she wanted to know, but she knew better than to ask. It would only upset her. “I’m still interested in climbing and riding, if that’s where this is going.”

He laughed, loud and long. “You are fun,” he said. “And yes, I do hope that’s where this is going.” He stood up and kicked the chair back with more force than was necessary.

It startled Ari as much as it aroused her. Her entire body was tingling from the drink, or from expectation, or both. She hadn’t felt so much since the night she’d escaped her family’s castle, and then it had been rage and despair.

“Have you had others?” he asked. “Other men, other women?”

“Yes. Both.”

“Good.” Gently, he trapped her against him. His mouth was on hers and he tasted good, the flavor of wine less potent, an afterthought. His lips were soft and his hands were big, one on each side of her face.

Cailan was quick and good with his fingers: he had her pants undone before she knew what he was up to, and now he was pushing her shirt off her shoulders. He paused their kiss long enough to admire her breasts; his mouth was still wet. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

The blush spread from her neck into her chest, and he chased it.

Ari wrapped her hands around him and pulled them both back until they stumbled onto his bed. It was a soft fall, and he felt good on top of her. Their kisses became staggered, both of them losing their breath. His hands stroked her, holding her steadily, while hers stuttered along his body. He had scars in places — not many, but enough to surprise her.

She felt him through his pants, rubbing the palm of her hand against him. There was nothing so satisfying as making a king gasp, it turned out. He felt good just in her hand, and it had been weeks since she’d had anyone. “Shall I kneel before my king?” she asked.

Feigning chagrin, he said, “How could we have neglected such a formality? Yes, I do believe you owe me a proper kneeling.”

She laughed while they rearranged themselves. Cailan hauled his pants over his hips and shucked them easily, without modesty. She slid between his legs; the ground was hard under her knees, but it was difficult to care when she was so focused on the cock in front of her — not to mention who it belonged to. He was a good size, neither intimidating nor a disappointment. How fortunate for her: she imagined he could have her punished, had he dropped his pants and she’d refused him, one way or the other. Not that she really believed he would, but men could surprise you, sometimes. And she barely knew Cailan from a stranger.

Ari enjoyed him, slowly licking the length of his cock, savoring the look on his face. His fingers were clutching his sheets. He was reclined, propped up still; his strong, sturdy arms were beginning to shake. She wasn’t the only one blushing, now. He was stunning, his bright hair splayed about his shoulders like that.

“ _More_.”

She stopped, pumping him in her hand. “Was that an order, Cailan? Or a plea.”

He finally fell flat on his back. “Please, have mercy,” he laughed breathlessly.

“I’m going to need to hear a little more than that.”

“You want to hear more, do you?” He paused. “I want more, Ari. I want your lips around my cock; I want my hands in your hair, holding you still while I —”

“Yes alright, you’ve earned it, then.” She obliged, but dragged it out. She made him wait while she tasted him, while she used both her hands on him in opposite directions. She squirmed and readjusted her position, her knees growing sore, her thighs becoming wet.

“Cailan…I need…”

“What do you need, love?” He threw that word around carelessly, and she liked him for it.

“I need something in me.”

He pulled himself up to the edge of the bed. “You’ve hands, haven’t you?” he grinned.

“I…”

Cailan took her chin between his fingers. “Go on. Let me see you put your hand between your legs.”

She tried to hold his gaze while she did as he commanded her to, but in the end, she couldn’t. She closed her eyes while she teased herself open on her fingers, but she could still _feel_ him looking at her. The image of his face, still frozen in that smug smirk…

“You look good like this, you know. Now just keep touching yourself, while I make good on my offer.”

She opened her eyes again when she felt his hands stroking her hair, deceptively gentle. He tangled his fingers in it, cradling the back of her head and coaxing her forward. He slipped the head of his cock past her lips and she sucked for him, unable to keep a steady rhythm on herself. It was strangely relaxing to have control seized from her — something she usually couldn't abide. But Cailan didn’t exert force over her, only the illusion of it. It wouldn’t take much to loosen his hold, and she got the impression he would give if she needed him to.

He pulled out of her mouth abruptly, and stroked himself slowly, biting his lip. “Mm, not yet, I don’t think,” he hissed. “Not without returning the favor. On your hands and knees, then.”

He waited very patiently while she complied, climbing onto his bed again. She stole a pillow and braced it under her chest, letting her head fall onto it as well. She enjoyed the appreciative noises Cailan made behind her.

She was surprised when he got on his back underneath her.

He moaned while he licked her, flattening his tongue against her teasingly. He was very, very good: he used pressure on her in places she didn’t know could feel good; he slipped his tongue inside her a couple of times; rather than wipe her mess off his face with mild disgust, he simply kissed the insides of her thighs before going back to her cunt.

Ari tried very hard to contain her noise with the pillow, but Cailan treated her so well that she couldn’t keep it down. She very nearly screamed into his mattress when he pushed his fingers into her. She said his name over and over again, a desperate, exhausted whisper. When she heard him moan, she glanced back over her shoulder, and saw that he had his cock in his hand.

“Shall I finish you like this?” he asked against her thigh. “With my mouth and my fingers?”

“Please, Cailan!”

“‘Please’, is it?” he smiled and she felt his teeth on her skin.

“Please, I want your cock!”

He made his thrusts faster and harder and listened to her beg him for just a while longer before relenting — just as she felt an orgasm creeping up on her, too.

“Stay right where you are.”

She whined when he took his fingers out; she felt empty, and she was almost hurting from her brush with climax. She recovered quickly though when the head of his cock teased her wet entrance. “Please, please, please…”

For his part, Cailan seemed incapable of carrying on his charade of nonchalance. He moved in her slowly, inch by inch. She could take all of him, but just barely. He covered her with his body, pushing her down, fucking her with rough, shallow thrusts. He growled in her ear while he took her, gripped her wrists in his hands.

Her orgasm took her by surprise. Where it had been building steadily before, it crashed in on her this time, uncontrollable and intense, like water breaking through a dam. It carried her away, and she pushed back on him, almost sobbing into his sheets as it wracked her body. She was so consumed by pleasure, she was only vaguely aware of Cailan’s thrusts as they picked up speed. He didn’t pull out. He hauled her hips back and gave a long, drawn-out groan while he finished inside her. She could see him in a nearby mirror: his head thrown back; hair clinging to his skin with sweat; his face, neck, and chest flushed from exertion and pleasure.

When he finished, he moved gently out of her, and pulled her against him. It was marginally uncomfortable, as they were a snarl of soaked sheets and sweaty skin, but he seemed reluctant to let her go just yet. Idly, he kissed the back of her neck, humming contentedly.

While Cailan basked lazily in the afterglow, it settled over Ari exactly what she had just done. She flinched when he reached around and teased one of her nipples.

“Not ready to go again, yet, are we?” he asked.

“Are you?” she asked skeptically.

“Give me a few minutes.”

Ari squirmed, settling with her head cradled in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

“I should like to keep you.” He yawned, before elaborating. “Mm. I could kidnap you, take you to Denerim.” Of course it was all nonsense: he was just talking, saying whatever addled fantasy took root in his mind post-coital.

“I should think the Queen wouldn’t be very amused.”

Cailan laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. She’s spoken of getting a pet, before,” he joked. “I shall have to satisfy myself with keeping you for the night, though.”

“Let me sleep for a bit, and you can satisfy yourself with me more than once tonight.”

He smiled against her and kissed her hair. “How about I wake you with my mouth?”

“Me, and the entire camp?” she warned.

“Ha! That would be ambitious of me.”

She fell asleep with the tingle of pleasure beneath her skin, and with Cailan’s flights of fancy flitting about the edges of her consciousness. She dreamed of satin sheets and plush curtains and all the trappings she was used to. She faded in and out of sleep, and couldn’t always tell if Cailan was taking her in his tent, or if they’d somehow woken up on the other side of the country, safe and warm behind walls of stone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the kink meme: "F!Cousland and Cailan have sex before the battle." Didn't complete the bonus, but that's fine; that's why it's a bonus.


End file.
